


feels like this could be forever right now (with every guitar string scar on my hand)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Light Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: The morning after, feat. Chloe Beale discovering something new about Beca Mitchell.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 27
Kudos: 202
Collections: StorytimeF4A





	feels like this could be forever right now (with every guitar string scar on my hand)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taradraws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taradraws/gifts).



> Title from “A.M.” by One Direction and “Lover” by Taylor Swift. This is for Tara...thanks for being an inspiring force. You contributed to me getting back into writing.
> 
> This isn't...really anything. Just words to a page I guess. Been busy with life and school and trying not to feel totally horrible about the state of the world.
> 
> **See Tara's amazing art[here!](https://tara-draws.tumblr.com/post/630443269717999616/me-et-theresa-brainstormed-this-scene-and-now)**

Beca wakes slowly. It’s something that she always tried to beat in high school and college, but she never really got around to mastering the art of functioning like a full adult human at the crack of dawn.

She supposes, however, that when there are people and things worth waking up to, that _might_ change things.

Like falling asleep to the sensation of Chloe's lips against the back of her neck. And waking up to the same.

But words—words are harder to process. So the fact that Chloe appears to be _speaking_ to her is enough of a jolt for Beca to wake up just a bit more.

“I didn’t know you played.” There is something in Chloe’s voice as she asks. Something familiar.

It takes a moment longer for Beca to process exactly why these are the first words Chloe is saying to her as she slips from slumber. As soon as her brain allows, she takes stock of her surroundings, recognizing that she is sleeping fairly close to the edge of her bed while Chloe loosely holds her from behind. One arm tucked under Beca’s head and neck, gently cradling her. Her other hand pressed lightly against her stomach. It is that hand which lifts to brush a few errant strands of hair from Beca’s face and mouth. Chloe sighs contentedly as she does so, clearly pleased by the way Beca twitches ever so slightly in reaction to Chloe’s ministrations. Another brush of Chloe’s hand, this time against her cheek, then her jaw.

She _could_ ask Chloe to stop so they can steal just a few more moments of sleep, but she can already feel Chloe’s thrumming energy behind her. In fact, she senses that first, even before feeling Chloe’s skin against her own. Beca shifts, now fully aware that her bare back is pressed against Chloe’s front and she is only happy to press herself further against Chloe’s embrace, grunting tiredly as she does so. Hopefully that is enough to divert Chloe’s attention to more pleasant activities, such as sleep.

Sleep is nice. Beca has personally never gone wrong with a bit more sleep.

Though...her body hums pleasantly at the memory of Chloe pressing her into her bed just the night before, both of them far too aroused and desperate for each other to even consider stopping. The build-up of eight years of misplaced feelings and undeniable attraction. Their first time—it had been fucking incredible.

Chloe makes a small noise to draw Beca’s attention back to her (not that Beca had really been daydreaming about anybody else anyway).

“What,” Beca mumbles, sleepy enough that she lacks any inflection in her speech. Her throat is a little scratchy, equal parts due to sleeping with her mouth open and the sounds Chloe pulled from her while knuckle-deep inside Beca. The sounds she had coaxed, even. Drawn out. Each press and curl of her fingers as she watched Beca’s face carefully, waiting only to see exactly what would make Beca finally lose all control.

“Guitar,” Chloe clarifies conversationally because, of course, she has no idea exactly where Beca’s mind is slowly sneaking off to. Or maybe she does. Beca can’t...really tell when it comes to Chloe because Chloe always manages to toe the line between filthy and innocent whenever she feels like it. It drove Beca crazy _before_ they were together. It’s somehow more devastating to her mind and body _now_ that they’re together. Still, Chloe presses on. “I didn’t know you played,” she repeats, pulling Beca closer. She sounds happy, almost, like she is excited to continuously discover new things about Beca. This whole...learning things about each other—or rather, Chloe learning things about _her_ because she wants to and because she cares...that will probably never get old.

But it’s not quite that which Beca fixates on. Again, she hears that familiar hint of curiosity in Chloe’s voice.

At first, Beca can’t place it. It is perhaps a bit too early and Beca’s limbs are a little too sore. Plus, she feels the delicious slide of Chloe’s skin against her own as Chloe nuzzles her face into Beca’s neck, bringing her further into wakefulness. Beca blinks awake—a bit more than before—and takes in the blurry sight of the cluttered room in front of her.

“I picked it up near the end of senior year,” Beca mumbles before she stifles a yawn against her pillow.

The reminder of senior year is a lukewarm memory. All the hiding and anxiety and how much upset she had caused herself _and_ Chloe. Her deteriorating relationship with Jesse. The gnawing in her chest and stomach whenever she so much as looked in Chloe’s direction. She chalked it up to guilt. It was more complicated than that.

Beca grips the edge of her pillow, eyes fluttering closed once more when she feels Chloe’s hand begin to trace soothing (and yet, entirely tantalizing—the absolute _tease_ ) circles over her abdomen. Sometimes the circles are wide and sweeping. Sometimes, they are small, like Chloe wants to zero in on a particular spot on Beca’s skin. Sometimes Beca feels multiple fingers. Sometimes just one, tracing delicate, thin lines across soft, sensitive skin. It makes Beca shiver even though Chloe’s hand is still warm, blissfully having been hidden beneath the comforter all night.

It _could_ lull Beca back to sleep.

But—“I’ve never heard you play,” Chloe whispers, lips trailing a line across Beca’s shoulder. She lingers on Beca’s shoulder, mapping the familiar tattoo. “Seems unfair.”

A sharp memory: Chloe’s teeth, blunt and even, scraping along tender skin before her lips take over and she is tenderly kissing the curve of Beca’s shoulder all over her tattoo; the rock of Beca’s hips, staccato—disjointed, however, as Chloe pins her to the bed, fucking her steadily from behind; passion, burning red.

Beca swallows. She wonders if Chloe can tell. “Well, I’m awake now,” she attempts to grumble.

Chloe giggles, her forearm tightening around Beca’s midsection. “I can see that.”

The giggle softens Beca immeasurably. Beca longs more than anything to turn over because she just knows, based on the disjointed rays of sun floating through her room, that there must be some kind of misshapen, but still beautiful, halo all over Chloe right now. She never bothered to get her blinds fixed, citing the temporariness of this living arrangement upon her move to L.A. after the USO tour, but, based on the mess of her possessions sprawled around her bedroom, she isn’t sure she’s quite willing to part with this home yet.

Her first home in Los Angeles.

The place where she and Chloe kissed for the first time.

Made love for the first time.

(With many more repeat performances to come, Beca hopes.)

She longs to turn around, to snuggle into Chloe’s arms, and to waste the rest of their day away, but it is, of course, a rare weekend that Chloe is able to put down everything to visit her. A brief interlude before their lives really pick up again. There is something that feels wholly _them_ and _only_ them about this whole arrangement. They’re still figuring out how to be with each other _like that_ , as Chloe would say.

Of course, their history is just that. Beca wants everything to be _special_ , though as Beca is quickly learning, every moment with Chloe is special in its own way. From the way their eyes met at the activities fair all those years ago to the long hug they had shared at the airport as Beca made her way out west to fulfill her dreams to their first kiss, cuddled together in the bedroom Beca’s half-run-down, half-upscale apartment as the sun set all around them

(Just the night before—“You should really get those fixed,” Chloe had whispered against Beca’s lips, referring to the broken blinds.

Beca can’t bear the thought of fixing something that isn’t broken—especially not since she realized that it cast such beautiful light across Chloe herself, making her look more sunkissed than usual; making her hair more fiery than usual.)

“I’ll play something for you,” Beca murmurs, shaking herself out of the memory. If she looks at Chloe, she isn’t sure what she’ll say. Perhaps nothing at all, knowing herself. Nothing, except the words she longs to say to Chloe— _longs_ because she has felt them welling up inside her for the longest time now. It never quite threatens to burst from her, but the intensity of her own feelings scare her.

“You don’t have to,” Chloe replies immediately, like she is more eager to soothe any inner turmoil Beca may be feeling. “I was mostly just teasing you.”

“Ha,” Beca returns dryly. She stands, refusing to gaze over her shoulder at where she knows Chloe reclining in her bed. The sheets rustle as Chloe shifts. _Don’t look, Beca. Have some damn self-restraint._

Beca initially begins to make her way towards the guitar propped up by her sparse shelf. She had picked it up as a hobby mostly to pass time and soothe herself from her growing anxiety during her senior year. It kind of stuck with her, but she rarely plays. She rarely played it while living with Amy and Chloe, having felt rather shy about it and only played while both her roommates were out.

But now—now, Chloe is her girlfriend and she cannot think of any excuse as to not share this with her. Besides, her words have typically always translated better through music. Something like that, anyway. She’s sure Chloe will have something to say about it.

She detours, however, because she feels bare, standing in the middle of her room without a stitch of clothing. There isn’t quite a chill, but the sensation of Chloe’s eyes on her still makes her blush like the freshman she once was. Despite how much Chloe makes her feel wanted and desired, there is still a level of insecurity that she can’t quite shake. She’s not quite at the level of being able to walk around her own room naked, but she absolutely doesn’t mind that Chloe freely enjoys doing so...a fact she had to reckon with while they had lived together, but at least now she has the opportunity to enjoy it. Girlfriend perks and all. Beca puts on an old t-shirt (Chloe’s) and comfortable boyshorts (her own) over the sound of Chloe’s protests and quickly grabs her guitar.

“Scooch,” Beca demands when she makes her way back to bed only to see that Chloe has sprawled out entirely, engulfing the space where Beca once lay only moments ago.

Chloe bites her lip, shaking her head _no_ as she lifts her arm behind her head, exposing just a bit more skin as the sheet slips down the top of her chest. Beca swallows, attempting to maintain a sense of seriousness, but she’s sure she’s failing miserably. “Fine,” she declares, clambering over Chloe’s legs so she can sit closer to the wall. She attempts to avoid her blinds as she goes, but in her efforts to _not_ injure her girlfriend horrendously with her guitar, she’s sure she breaks at least two more blinds.

Chloe watches her attentively with sleep-laden eyes. She somehow manages to look even _more_ attractive, which infuriates Beca ever so slightly (in a good way). With her sleep-tousled hair, slight pout to her lips, she looks so ridiculously tempting and _gorgeous_ that Beca briefly forgets what to do with the instrument in her hand.

“Bec,” Chloe whispers, verbally nudging her out of her reverie.

“Oh. Right—um.” Beca clears her throat over the sound of Chloe’s giggle. She isn’t even really sure what she wants to _play_. She has tinkered around with a few melodies of her own, but she feels shy, suddenly, even more exposed than she felt when she was walking around her room butt-naked. “I...I don’t really know...this is just something that’s been in my head. And I’m not very good,” she warns, cutting Chloe a pleading glance.

“Beca,” Chloe repeats, this time soothingly and gently. The rasp in her morning voice does something incredibly wonderful to Beca. “You’re amazing. I just want to hear you play anything. Play me a scale or something. I dunno.”

“I can play more than a scale,” Beca mumbles, half-indignant, half-exasperated. Music has always come somewhat easily to her—the technical aspects at least. It’s the feeling she gets when she looks at Chloe, laying in her bed like she belongs there for the rest of time—that’s what she wants to know if she can capture.

As she readies herself to play, however, one hand settling neatly in place on the neck of the guitar and the other just over the pick guard, she finds that she draws her instinct from both muscle memory of playing the guitar and also the way Chloe had felt against her the night before. It sends all kinds of heat rushing through her body, but it is so easy to simply remember the sensation of Chloe’s skin beneath her fingers. She hasn’t quite rebuilt her calluses due to lack of consistent practice, but she wonders if the brief discomfort is worth it considering she had felt the expanse of Chloe’s skin beneath her fingertips without any inhibitions.

Beca glances up midway through her song—a sweet, gentle melody that reminds her simultaneously of Chloe and _not_ Chloe. A mix of love songs she’s heard on the radio and Chloe’s Spotify playlists. Everything and nothing all at once because she can’t quite capture, yet, the sensation in her chest whenever Chloe so much as _looks_ in her direction. Chloe’s gaze is both dark and light. For one, she looks like she might start crying. Or maybe she might start kissing Beca. Chloe is so incredibly passionate that it is sometimes easy for Beca to confuse emotions—something she wants to be more attentive to as their romantic relationship continues to blossom and grow.

There is, however, unmistakable desire. Chloe’s eyes flit between Beca’s face and her hands on the guitar to almost dizzying effect.

And maybe it’s the fact that Chloe’s expression isn’t even particularly _new_. Chloe has always looked at her like this in some form or another throughout all the years they’ve known each other. It is only now that Beca really fully allows herself to appreciate the sincerity of Chloe’s expression and the weight behind her eyes.

Beca stumbles, tripping up as her fingers skid over the wrong frets, but she is long past the need to put on a show for Chloe (she never really did have to do _that_ , not when Chloe has been her staunchest supporter since before Beca even knew what _she_ really wanted herself) and she just wants to be everything Chloe needs and wants and _God—_

“Kiss me,” Beca says breathlessly without even having sung a word. Chloe is already taking the guitar from her hands carefully as Beca’s chest simply begins to ache with longing for Chloe—Chloe who is bathed in sunlight and the comfort of her own confidence—and her hands itch to hold Chloe again like she did the night before. In her belly, as Chloe sets the guitar down carefully while not caring that she doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on, Beca feels a now-familiar burn of desire.

The same desire which pulled Chloe to her the night before and they had fumbled around in Beca’s sheets, bringing each other to orgasm again and again.

It makes Beca flare up just thinking about it.

She doesn’t want to be _that_ couple that engages in sex _all the time_ —or—well—

Clearly Chloe has no qualms about any of that. The desire that had been brimming in Chloe's eyes from the moment Beca plucked her first note is now spilling over into increasingly-desperate kisses. The kisses that Chloe continues to press against her mouth steal Beca's breath with each sweep of Chloe's tongue, each tilt of Chloe's head, the slant of soft lips against her own. Eagerly, Chloe kisses her, like she can't quite get enough of Beca. Beca groans, pulling Chloe closer as Chloe nips enthusiastically up and down her neck, hands already pushing at the underwear hugging her hips. For all the care that Chloe had displayed, setting her guitar aside, she is displaying none of that restraint now and Beca immediately short circuits at the sensation of Chloe’s hot breath up and down her aching center.

Beca decides, right then and there, that she doesn’t give a flying fuck if Chloe wants to jump her at any time of the day. In fact, that would be preferable. Welcome, even. The golden hues in Chloe’s hair seem even more pronounced as Beca gazes down, lip trapped between her lips. Wantonly, she grabs at Chloe’s hair—guitar strings could never compare to the messy, silky soft strands between her fingers—and moans, _loudly,_ as Chloe’s lips latch onto her clit.

Morning guitar session? Good idea. Morning sex? Even better idea.


End file.
